


Keeping Jennifer Company

by cookiemom6067



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s05e02 The Seed, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 15:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiemom6067/pseuds/cookiemom6067
Summary: Written for the season 5 tagathon on LiveJournal - a long, long, loooong time ago





	Keeping Jennifer Company

“Marie? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, Doctor. We’ve been ordered to evacuate the tower.” 

My God. Oh, my God. Dark and alone. Jennifer kept thinking that she could handle whatever the Pegasus galaxy wanted to throw at her, based on past experience. And she kept thinking wrong. 

When she handled her promotion to CMO of Atlantis, she figured she could handle a real epidemic on Atlantis. When she got through the invasion by the crystalline nightmare creature and then the amnesia disease, she thought she could get through a trip off world with Teyla. After that terrifying day hiding in the woods from the bad guys, dangling over a precipice from a rope bridge, and watching Teyla savagely fight off the Bolo Kai, there came the fake outbreak and almost blowing herself up with an oxygen tank. Then, there was falling down that hole with Sam and Rodney, the Hoffan epidemic, the turmoil around finding Carson, losing him again to stasis and Teyla’s capture by Michael. 

Just when things were looking up, when Teyla and Torren John were home safe and sound, Michael’s former wraith/human hybrids were responding to the retro-virus treatment and Carson was finally released from stasis, she should have known another awful curve ball was coming. She’d never guessed it would be a scene out of a nightmare: mysterious “things” growing out of her body; voices in her head; isolation; darkness. 

Jennifer had always gotten through difficult times by looking forward to the future that would shape her challenges into purpose. It got her through her undergraduate degree as a teenager; med school, internship and residency before she was twenty five. She knew that the long hours and difficult studies would enable her to help people by curing the sick and injured. Her social isolation was part of the price she paid to attain excellence. 

Before Atlantis, she had acquaintances, friends and casual lovers that she could join for a night out after long shifts as she worked toward her specialty in emergency medicine. In fact, it was a necessary outlet: people in the same field, facing the same challenges, with similar schedules. None of them expected much from Jennifer, and she expected little from them: mindless fun, light conversation, sexual release, nothing deeper. One could argue that her chosen specialty was tailor made to keep people at bay: trauma patients that she would never see again after stabilizing them and turning them over to the appropriate colleague for after care. 

There was never a question of whether or not she was qualified for Atlantis. Dr. Beckett (“call me Carson”) had been so effusive in his praise of her credentials and her experience that she had been a little embarrassed. Pegasus had proven to be a trial by fire, hardening her experiences in the kiln of unimagined danger, but it had the surprising result of ending her social isolation. 

As the head of the department following Carson’s death, she did not feel comfortable socializing casually with the members of her staff, so she was getting to know people with different backgrounds and outlooks for the first time in her life. No longer were they her faceless “patients,” but her friends. There was even romance. For the first time in her life, Jennifer felt that she “belonged.” 

And now, she was dying alone, in the dark. 

Terror. Darkness. Alone. Her mind drifted

Ronon Dex terrified her at first. He was huge, silent and menacing, an opaque presence, revealing nothing. His specialty was dealing violence, which he did with skill and enthusiasm. Even in her years serving in an inner-city ER, she had never seen anyone like him. The most frightening gangbangers she ever treated looked mild by comparison, boys dressed in men’s clothing. He wasn’t a gentle giant. He wasn’t possessed of a secret sensitive nature. He sparred for fun and considered it a compliment when Jennifer told him no one she had ever met behaved with such reckless aggression. But he was mesmerizingly beautiful; tall, with café au lait skin and sparkling green eyes. His exotic clothes and hair accentuated his powerful body. Ronon Dex didn’t terrify Jennifer any more. He made her tremble for far different reasons. 

She was sure that she wasn’t the first of the Earth expedition to lust after the Satedan. Ronon was a sex on legs, after all. Even when her nerves had been on edge due to his intimidating presence, there had also been a thrill of desire whenever she touched him in the course of her professional duties. Ronon was, after all, one of her frequent visitors in the infirmary, whether he had suffered another sparring accident or was escorting someone upon whom a sparring accident had been inflicted. She never imagined he could possibly feel the same way about her. It was improbable: like a tiger and a housecat. 

Their enforced inactivity during the lockdown malfunction, after their plan to blow the door with an exploding oxygen tank had failed, demonstrated that the big cat might like to settle down with a saucer of milk after all. His kisses were surprisingly gentle, his smile amazingly sweet. Sweetness and gentleness from Ronon was hotter than intense, mind blowing sex with his Milky Way predecessors. They danced around each other for days, exchanging embarrassed, secret smiles in the mess and surreptitious glances in the conference room. One night, as Jennifer prepared to turn over the infirmary to the night staff, she turned to find Ronon in the doorway, arms outstretched in the door frame, leaning inward. He seemed to occupy the entire space, and what’s more, he seemed to have sucked the oxygen from the room. Jennifer felt her knees go a little weak and her head go a little light. 

“Ronon? Did you need something?” 

“Nah. Just wondered if you were done for the night.” 

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Just let me um…” 

Ronon smiled seductively as she finished her handoff and fell into step beside her as she left the infirmary. They walked in silence, and when Jennifer reached her quarters, she opened the door and stood sideways in the opening, wordlessly inviting Ronon in. As the door closed, they gazed silently at each other for a moment, and then drew together, kissing slow and deep. The hum of desire Jennifer had been feeling for days coalesced low in her belly, making her feel heavy and languid. Ronon straightened up, lifting her onto her tiptoes before scooping her up in his arms, kissing her senseless as he carried her to her bed. They pulled at each other’s clothes, seeking the warmth of skin, kissing, licking and tasting. 

By the time Ronon left that night, Jennifer was limp, content and heavy-lidded with satisfaction. It was an affair short on words, but rich in sexual chemistry. They didn’t pretend to share many interests. Jennifer’s choice of “Blades of Glory” for a movie night went over like a particularly lame joke at a dinner party, as Ronon’s confusion that Will Ferrell and Jon Heder never pulled out their blades to fight taught her that certain cultural references did not readily translate, even with visual aids. Nevertheless, perhaps because of his memories of Melena, Ronon seemed to know what to do when Jennifer had a hard day in the infirmary, easing her sore muscles and relaxing her strung out mind with his attentions. Ronon’s needs, other than enthusiastic sex, were simple: to be accepted and understood as he was, and Jennifer was more than willing to give that to him. Jennifer and Ronon hadn’t gotten to questioning “where they were going” as a couple, and Jennifer was just as glad to leave it at that. Neither pretended that the relationship filled all their needs. Ronon was close to his team and in many ways Jennifer didn’t fit into that equation. Jennifer began to develop a friendship with Sam, the other “new girl on the block” that filled her need for conversation when she was in the mood for talking. Teyla had been very kind in reaching out, particularly since their misadventures on the deserted new Athosian planet. She was also growing surprisingly fond of Rodney McKay. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of the tendrils reaching out, growing toward something, and she felt that cold presence of someone else in her mind. It was like a low murmur just below the range of her normal hearing. It felt as though the presence were trying to lull her to sleep, to reassure her that all was well and going as planned. She resisted, afraid that if she fell asleep she would never wake up, at least not as herself. She wondered, not for the first time, if this was a bizarre nightmare; but, usually her “things coming out of the chest cavity” nightmares were of patients she was treating, and not herself. She had never had Ripley-type Alien nightmares, with living lumps rising and bursting from her ribcage. Yet, here she was, with a mass of red tendrils growing out of her body. And the darkness and quiet was not of her quarters, safe and warm, but the deserted tower containing the isolation room. Isolation room – how appropriate.

She remembered waking that morning, smothering under a too heavy blanket, to the sounds of monitors beeping. She barely contained her terror, especially when no one came in to talk to her for the longest time. She could hear a faint chatter in the corners of the room, voices trying to tell her to relax and sleep, seeming to ask for her trust without deserving it. Adding to her fright was the fact that she could not feel her body or lift her head. She couldn’t see the heavy weight on her, but it seemed to have a strange consistency and a peculiar, alien odor, vaguely fishy, with a musty overlay that reminded her of her Grandmother’s attic. When she heard Rodney’s voice, it was not reassuring. “Oh, my God.” She moved her eyeballs and could make out Rodney, in a red isolation suit. 

“Rodney? What’s happening to me?” 

“We’re not entirely sure. It looks like some kind of a cocoon. Does it hurt?”

She told him the worst of her terrors. “I can’t feel anything. I can’t move.” 

“Ok look. Don’t you worry. We’re going to get you out of there.” Rodney’s assurances she was sure, had no basis in an ongoing plan of attack. But she was comforted by them, anyway.

When she had first come to Atlantis, she got an earful about the great Dr. Rodney McKay from the nurses and medics in the infirmary. She learned that he was a hypochondriac that nevertheless had several legitimate medical maladies. She had originally been inclined to mock him lightly about his hypertension and presumed unfitness, until she had occasion to compare his most recent test results with those taken early in his career at the SGC. Rodney was in fact in better physical condition than he had been when he arrived in Pegasus. His team seemed to be a good influence on his eating and exercise habits, and his regular off-world activities had clearly pared some flab from his body and improved his overall health. She quickly fell into the routine followed by Carson Beckett, listening for what Rodney was not saying. Often the signs that something worrisome was happening were buried in the irrelevant complaints made about splinters and pulled muscles and interesting Rodney-specific symptoms. 

The long afternoon spent trapped with Rodney and Sam in the old Genii mine, with tremors weakening the supports for the room they were in was made bearable by their camaraderie, playing “Who Would you Rather” and joining with Sam in teasing Rodney. Rodney was a satisfying target, both because he came up with the most bizarre and adolescent comments, including almost endearing babbles when he thought he had said the wrong thing. He also was as smart as he thought he was, coming up with several ideas, along with Sam, that might well have worked with just a little more luck. She almost laughed remembering his eyes when she had nearly taken off her top to reveal her pink bra. That look on this face was the deciding factor in Jennifer’s bullying him into going out with her for a beer once they had returned to Atlantis and been patched up. For all of Sam’s stories about his boorish behavior when he first met Sam, including the now infamous “dumb blond” remark, it was clear to Jennifer that Rodney was not the same guy that Sam knew then. There was a definite sweetness to him now and signs that he was willingly making an effort not to be as bad with people as he manifestly was. He was addressing his character flaws as best as he knew how, and Jennifer respected that. Rodney was also one of the funniest men she had ever talked to. His wit was sharp and quick, and some of his best stuff grew funnier the longer she thought about it. Jennifer had a bit of a sarcastic streak herself, so she could appreciate the work of a master.

Jennifer had then heard a soft whisper. “It’s alright, Jennifer. Just shut your eyes and go to sleep.” 

“Who else is here?”

Rodney sounded concerned. “What do you mean? There’s – there’s no one.”

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” the voice whispered with her mother’s voice.

“I don’t want to go to sleep. I’m afraid I won’t wake up.”

She hadn’t heard Rodney’s soft, “Jennifer?” She was hearing the voice of her advanced toxicology professor, accusing her of carelessness, reminding her that she hadn’t followed protocols when she’d found the goop on her hand. “It’s not my fault!” 

“Of course it’s not! It’s an alien organism,” Rodney sounded frantic, trying to get through to her. “Carson found it in your blood sample. He's gonna -- he's gonna figure out what it is and then, then, we're gonna figure out how to kill it.” 

“Dr. Keller,” the nasal, arrogant tones of the professor echoed in her head, “you must report all symptoms. You are not qualified to disregard them.” 

So she told Rodney about the sight that had greeted her after her impromptu nap at her keyboard the previous day, including the fact that she had forgotten to run a scan, forgotten to report it to anyone, in spite of Marie’s presence when she discovered the strange crystalline goop that had encased her hand. Now that her head was a little clearer, she was puzzled. Why had she neglected something so basic? “Don’t worry about it, Darling,” her mother’s voice crooned. “It’s time to sleep now, Sweetie. You have a big day tomorrow.” Jennifer’s confusion grew. Her mother couldn’t be here. She was in another galaxy. And what big day? Her mother’s voice subsided to a wordless lullaby. Jennifer felt her eyelids growing heavy. “Mama? What’s tomorrow?” Thoughts of Christmas, of birthday parties, and vacations in the mountains and at the seaside unfolded behind her closed lids. “Where are we going? Will there be presents?” As she spoke to the voice, her voice got higher and lighter, childlike. “I hope there are presents. I got a chemistry set for my birthday.” The birthday in question had been her 10th, but the inconsistency was not bothering Jennifer. She began to hum along to her mother’s lullaby.

Rodney backed out of the room, exchanging alarmed looks with Carson through the observation window, but Jennifer neither heard nor saw him go. It was not until the lights went out that she had snapped out of it, the adrenaline spike of fear bringing her to her senses. She almost wished, now, for the return of the dreamy unconcern that had draped her like a heavy warm steam a few hours before. Now, she knew she was alone in the dark. 

The voice in her head no longer sounded like her mother.

“Designation. I will be complete.” The voice was undeniably alien, now. It no longer sought to comfort Jennifer, but felt like a cold, black ache, with a mental feeling of pins and needles. She could almost believe that she was feeling the tingling in her body, but the sensations from her neck downward were still disturbingly absent. This was a mental push, but no less uncomfortable. 

“Intruder. There is an intruder. Danger. Protect.” Jennifer felt a sensation of pushing from her center, like her body had come to life as a thousand boa constrictors. She felt her appendages wrap around something warm and living, squeezing. A feeling of cold satisfaction swept her mind, the cold implacable blackness rejoicing as it entrapped the invading thing – some living friend of Jennifer’s. The tiny part of her mind that was still Jennifer screamed. Soon, the cold, reptilian usurper in her mind screamed as well, as loud exploding pain erupted in its nearby appendages and the invader escaped. Jennifer gasped with pain, and the scream that had been held at bay exploded from her lips. “Shot! I’ve been shot!” she thought with shock, but it didn’t feel as painful as she would have imagined a gunshot wound to be. Although she knew, with certainty, that some of her wriggling extensions had been severed, it felt more like a knife being taken to her skin, not like losing an arm to P-90 fire. Before she lost consciousness, a deranged part of Jennifer’s increasingly weak mind almost wanted to laugh. Everything is relative.

She woke feeling weaker yet, not only in her own mind, but in the mind of the cold intruder. She could feel the power feeding her extended body had been cut off. The snakelike tendrils at the furthest reaches of Jennifer’s “body” twisted and writhed in protest, squirming more and more weakly as they reached for electrical power that was nowhere to be found. The faintest of energy surges attracted her attention. Another presence was near. Was it another intruder? The tendrils “sniffed” the air speculatively. It was a not. It was family. Her tendrils writhed weakly, seeking for power, but she warmed with pleasure. She would be complete. And she would not be alone. 

No longer alone.

No longer dark. 

Complete.

Complete. 

Satisfaction.

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [Tumblr](http://cookiemom6067.tumblr.com)


End file.
